“Why did he send everyone home so early?” Harlan asked.
“Hard as it may be to believe, Jonah Pritchard don’t consult me on such matters. He said send ’em home, I sent ’em home.”
It didn’t take much to figure out why, Callie thought, but even if he knew, Landry would never tell. His loyalty went beyond the boundaries of death. Jonah may be gone, but he still had family with a reputation to uphold—as sketchy as it may already be—and Landry had been indoctrinated long ago.
Speak no evil.
“Okay,” Harlan said. “So you were down at the south stable.”
Landry nodded. “It’s the one closest to the house—the Pritchards’ private stock. Couple of the horses got skittish and I heard shouts, followed by some gunshots. So I figured I’d better get my butt up here. By the time I got to the house, the flames had already started, and when I went inside I saw Jonah on the floor, a pool of blood around his head. No pulse.”
“And what about Gloria?” Callie asked.
“Slumped in a corner, looked like she’d been shot, too, but she was still breathing. I tried to drag her toward the back hallway, but I started choking on the smoke. I was about to pass out, so I figured I’d better get out of there and call for help.”
Neither Callie nor Harlan said anything, and she could see that Harlan was running Landry’s statement through his mind, trying find holes in it.
“And those shouts you heard,” Harlan said. “Right before the gunshots. You know whose they were?”
“Not a clue.”
“Male or female?”
“Both, would be my guess.”
Callie didn’t figure there was much guesswork required. Those voices undoubtedly belonged to Meg Pritchard, Billy Boy Lyman and maybe the third man, who had yet to be identified.
It suddenly occurred to her that they may have misjudged Jonah. Could it be that he had been harboring Meg and her friends against his will? That would explain why he’d come on so strong this afternoon. Maybe he’d had a gun trained on him the whole time.
But then that didn’t really fit, did it? Jonah Pritchard had never been a man who was easily intimidated, and she couldn’t see Meg and a couple of punks forcing him to do much of anything.
Besides, Jonah had always been Meg’s number one apologist. So it seemed more likely that he had welcomed the girl into his home, happy to give her refuge in her time of need, even if she was towing a couple pieces of unwanted baggage along with her.
It looked to Callie as if this was a case of misplaced trust. The question was why had Meg and her friends turned on Jonah? What had gone so horribly wrong?
She doubted Landry would offer any enlightenment. But if anyone could, it was Gloria.
She said to Harlan, “I need to get back to the hospital and talk to Gloria Pritchard.”
She turned to go, but Harlan caught her by the crook of the elbow. “Wait a minute.”
It had been a very long time since Callie had felt his touch, and she was surprised to find that she recognized it. Remembered it.
Was that even possible?
Gentle yet firm. No intimacy intended, but she suddenly felt as if it were the most intimate thing in the world.
She pulled herself free. “Do you mind?”
“So that’s it? You’re just gonna take off without me?”
“You didn’t seem too anxious to be around me earlier. Besides, this is a murder investigation. Two dead in the span of less than a day, and both murders point to the fire-starting talents of Megan Pritchard-Breen. I hate to break it to you, but your little manhunt is just a sideshow.”
“Not if Billy Boy put her up to this.”
“You don’t know Meg. I can’t see anyone calling the shots but her. She’s as bullheaded as her grandfather.”
“Takes one to know one, I guess.”
Callie frowned at him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You’re about the most bullheaded woman I’ve ever met,” he said. “Something I used to love about you. Now? Not so much.”
Callie’s frown deepened. “If this is your way of trying to convince me to let you keep riding shotgun, I think you may want to reconsider your approach.”
“At least I didn’t call you an idiot.”
She huffed at him and started toward her cruiser again, but Harlan caught up to her and once again grabbed her arm. “Callie, I’m not the enemy.”
Callie fought off the sudden memory of what he used to do to her with his hands and gave him her best cold stare. “Would you please let go of me?”
He studied her a moment, then did as he was told, Callie saying, “You’re on your own from here on out.” She continued across the yard, feeling his gaze on her, wishing he would just go away and let her live her life in peace.
But as she climbed into her car and got her seatbelt latched, the passenger door flew open and Harlan sat down next to her.
“I can be bullheaded, too,” he said. “So don’t even waste your time trying to argue with me.”
Chapter Nine
It took an hour and a half of surgery to remove the bullet from Gloria Pritchard’s left thigh and get her stitched up. She was still in recovery when they arrived.
The doctor told them they’d have to wait until she was transferred to a room before they could question her. She wouldn’t be making much sense until the anesthesia wore off anyway.
“How badly was she hurt?” Callie asked.
“Bullet was a through-and-through. Some muscle and tissue damage, but nothing too serious.”
“She got lucky,” Harlan said.
The doctor nodded. “She’ll be sore for a while, and she may have some problems with her lungs, thanks to smoke inhalation, but she should be back to normal in no time.”
Physically, at least, Harlan thought. Mental and emotional trauma weren’t as easy to shake loose. He and Callie were proof of that. And if Gloria’s own daughter—or one of her daughter’s friends—had done this to her, the condition was likely to be permanent.
As Gloria slept it off in recovery, Callie went to check on her grandmother, leaving Harlan to spend most of the wait alone. He tried to get comfortable on a plastic waiting room chair, but it was an exercise in futility. And after twenty long minutes of staring blankly at a television screen and leafing through old news magazines, Harlan finally got to his feet and headed down the hallway to Callie’s grandmother’s room.
He may not be wanted, but anything was better than this.
Back in their graduate school days, Callie had spoken fondly about her grandmother, and Harlan knew that the bond between them was unbreakable. But he’d never had the privilege of meeting Mrs. Glass. Had no idea if she even knew he existed.
Still, when Rusty had told him on the phone earlier that she had been hospitalized, he couldn’t help feeling some concern. Callie had grown up without her parents, and the thought of losing her grandmother had to be weighing on her mind.
When he reached the doorway, however, he was surprised to find that Callie was nowhere to be found. He thought for a moment that he’d gone to the wrong room, but the woman in the bed looked eerily familiar. A much older, more delicate version of the girl he’d once loved. The ravages of age had done nothing to erase her beauty, and Harlan knew that Callie would grow old just as gracefully. It was in her genes.
Too bad you won’t be around to see it.
This thought slipped uninvited into Harlan’s brain, and while he wasn’t sure where it had come from, he had to admit it was accompanied by a sense of sadness. He had always believed that he and Callie would be together forever, but for some reason fate hadn’t been in a cooperative mood.
“Are you gonna stand there daydreaming or say hello?”
Harlan blinked and pulled himself from his thoughts. Callie’s grandmother was looking directly at him, a wry smile on her thin face—one that Harlan recognized, although it had been a long time since he’d seen it. Callie didn’t seem to smile much nowad
ays.
“Sorry, ma’am. I was looking for your granddaughter.”
“She went out to get me a snack. The food here is horrendous.” She gestured to a chair. “You want to sit down?”
“No ma’am, I’ll just wait here. I’m Deputy Harlan—”
“Oh, I know who you are. Callie told me you were in town.”
Harlan stiffened, half expecting her to start shouting at him for breaking her granddaughter’s heart and ruining her life, but the old woman kept right on smiling.
“It was a long time ago,” she said, “but every email I got, every phone call that girl made while she was away, she must’ve mentioned you at least two or three times.”
Harlan nodded. “She talked about you a lot, too. I’m sorry we never got a chance to meet.”
“So am I.”
“We had plans to come up that last summer but…things changed.”
Her smile faltered. “Well, I guess that couldn’t be helped, could it?”
Harlan shrugged. “Callie thinks it could have.”
The old woman shook her head. “She’s a complicated girl, that one. So much like her mother, I sometimes find myself wanting to call her Mary. Probably have, once or twice. She makes her mind up about something, she’s apt to hang on to it even when she knows she’s being unreasonable.”
“Well, unreasonable or not, she made up her mind about me. And to be honest, I didn’t handle it all that well. Said quite a few things I shouldn’t have. And if I’d known what I was walking into when I came here, I probably would’ve stayed away.”
“Now that would’ve been a shame.”
The comment surprised Harlan. “Why do you say that?”
The old woman got up on her elbows now, once again looking Harlan straight in the eye. “I know you two have been busy, but in case you haven’t noticed, that girl is still in love with you.”
Harlan blinked. “I beg your pardon?”
“You heard me. Child likes to pretend she doesn’t give two hoots about you, that you’re the reason her life went off the rails, yet despite my best efforts over the past decade, she hasn’t met a man she can tolerate. And that’s all because of you, son.”
Harlan’s own words about his ex-wife came back to him suddenly.
Because she wasn’t you.
Could Callie have been afflicted by the same malady? Was every man she met measured against him? Against what they’d once had?
Not based on what he’d seen.
“With all due respect, Mrs. Glass, I think you’re dead wrong about that.”
She smiled again. “I may be wrong about the weather sometimes, or who’s gonna do what to who on my soaps…but I raised that girl and I know her better than anyone alive. And when I say she’s still in love with you, you’d better listen carefully, because I don’t want you to blow this opportunity.”
“Opportunity for what?” Callie said.
She came up behind Harlan, giving him an annoyed look as she squeezed past him through the doorway. She was carrying a bag of takeout.
“What else?” the old woman told her without a hitch. “To help you catch a killer. That is why he’s here, isn’t it? Jonah and I may have had our differences over the years, but it’s a shame what happened to him and Gloria. I guess that’s what you get when you raise a bad seed.”
“All that stuff I told you is confidential, Nana. I’d appreciate it if you kept it to yourself.”
“We’re among friends, aren’t we?”
Callie shot Harlan a look that pretty much put the lie to everything the old woman had told him. “Colleagues,” she corrected. “Even so, you need to learn to watch your tongue. You never know who might be listening.”
“I don’t think I’ve revealed any state secrets—have I, Marshal?”
That was a question up for debate, but Harlan said, “No, ma’am.”
She looked at Callie. “You see? Always getting hot and bothered over nothing. You need to learn to relax, child.”
“And you need to stop telling me that, but I don’t suppose you ever will.” She turned to Harlan. “Gloria Pritchard’s awake and they’re moving her to a room. I’ll be there in a minute.”
Harlan realized this was her not-so-subtle way of telling him to leave, so he nodded to Callie’s grandmother. “Nice talking to you, Mrs. Glass.”
“Same to you, son. Good to finally meet you after all these years.” She showed him another smile. “Don’t let your time here go to waste.”
“No, ma’am,” he said again. Then he was out the door and gone.
Chapter Ten
Gloria Pritchard was still groggy, but at least she was lucid. Lucid enough to have tears in her eyes.
“I feel so ashamed,” she croaked.
“Why’s that?” Harlan asked.
He had waited as they got her settled in the room, and by the time the doctor let him in to see her, Callie had shown up, still giving him the cold shoulder—which wasn’t a big news flash.
Even so, her grandmother’s words kept tumbling through his brain—
That girl is still in love with you.
But Harlan saw no evidence of this himself. Had to believe that the old woman was delusional. He had long ago concluded that it was too late for Callie and him. That the last train had come and gone.
But what if her grandmother was right?
Did he still feel the same about her?
Of course you do, you stupid fool. You never stopped loving her.
The thought was a revelation, as surprising as the old woman’s words, but was it really true? Did being in Callie’s presence stir up feelings that had long lain dormant, or was this simply a case of nostalgia? Of regret over things past that merely created the illusion that there was still something between them?
Ten years was a long time. Too long to be thinking about trying to rekindle emotions that he couldn’t even be sure still existed.
He was out of practice with Callie. The rhythm they’d once had was gone, and if her grandmother’s claim was even remotely true, then he obviously didn’t know how to read Callie anymore. Because from all appearances, she was done with him. For good.
But enough of this nonsense. He needed to put it aside and concentrate on finding a fugitive.
He returned his attention to Gloria Pritchard as she struggled a moment, then wiped the tears with the back of her hand. “I should have been honest with you this afternoon. If I had, Daddy would probably still be alive.”
It was odd hearing her use the term “daddy.” Based on her statements that afternoon, Harlan didn’t get the impression that the Pritchard household was a particularly loving one.
“Tell us what happened,” Callie said. She was in full professional mode, yet Harlan sensed a tension between these two women, the same tension he’d felt when they’d encountered each other that afternoon. There was something going on here that he wasn’t privy to.
Gloria closed her eyes, didn’t respond. She seemed to be trying to muster up the strength to speak, and he wondered if they’d come here too soon.
But from an investigator’s standpoint there was never a too soon. Every minute lost was a minute wasted.
Harlan gave her time, then said, “Ms. Pritchard?”
Still no response.
He was about to prompt her again, when she finally opened her eyes and said, “It was Megan. Megan and her friends.”
“They came to you for help?”
She nodded. “This morning. She and her friend Billy, and another man named Brett something—I didn’t catch his last name.”
The potato chip lover.
But Harlan wanted to make sure. Reaching into his inner jacket pocket, he brought out the surveillance photos and showed them to her.
“Are these the men?”
Gloria watched as he leafed through the photos, then squeezed her eyes shut again and nodded. “Yes.”
“Did they force their way into your house or did Jonah invite them in?”
“But I didn’t know him, ma’am, so I’d appreciate it if you’d answer it.”
She hesitated, then said, “Jonah worshipped Meg. Loved her more than he ever loved me, that’s for sure.”
“Even when she brought people like Billy Boy Lyman to the house? He’s not exactly what most grandfathers would consider boyfriend material.”
“Jonah wasn’t your typical grandfather.”
“Meaning what?”
“It’s no secret what the Pritchard family roots are. Even though we’ve come a long way, and try to pretend we’ve elevated ourselves, people around here know exactly what we used to be.”
“Which is?”
“Outlaws,” Callie told him. “They earned their fortune the easy way.”
Gloria looked at her, annoyed. “Easy has nothing to do with it. That seed money may have bought our land, but our fortune was built through legitimate hard work.” She returned her gaze to Harlan. “My great-grandfather was Jeremiah Pritchard. Before he split off and started his own gang, he used to ride with Robert Leroy Parker.”
“You mean Butch Cassidy?” Harlan said.
She nodded. “One of Wyoming’s favorite sons. But Jeremiah had his fans, too, and there’s no denying he helped turn Williamson into the town it is today.”
“Oh, brother,” Callie muttered.
Gloria stiffened. The malice in her eyes was hard to disguise. “Poor little Callie. Wants so desperately to be part of this family she can’t stand the idea that we’ve actually accomplished something over the years.”
“You have no idea what you’re talking about,” Callie said.
“Don’t I? I know you think that just because your slut mother spread her legs for my brother, that somehow makes you—”
“Shut up,” Callie told her, and Harlan could clearly see that Gloria’s words had cut very deeply. He thought for a moment he might have to hold Callie back, but she quickly got control of herself.
A_Wanted Man - Alana Matthews Page 6